Journal: Arfer
-------------------------------------------Mood: Confused
I don't think most of my King Arfur poems are any good. They ought to be dramatic stories, but they are more like boring explanations of myths. Bah, I make myself puke. Maybe I'm having a writer's block? Are they actual objects, like a cat's hairball? Cubical or icosohedral? Do they have any famous writers' blocks in museums anywhere? What happens if you throw one at a police car? In this Universe, so many things to learn (sigh) ... maybe I'm worried about my lung scan. I get a report about that on Friday. Do I have three months to live, or two years, or thirty years? Which would be worst? Will the doctor be able to produce a diagnosis? Omigod, do you think they will tell me to cut down on smoking? Nah, surely not. I'm not coughing blood all the time, just sometimes. There'll be some medicine to cure that, eh? Pills? Some of those longish oval pills in two colours, yeah. I took some of them for gonorrhea one time. Worked fine. They wouldn't make a bloke stop smoking, would they? That is so nineteenth-century and puritanical, I mean. I would change my medical cover, if they did that damnit. They should be really scared to mess with me about smoking. There are some things that just ... oh well, be getting along now eh?
...Created 2009-09-22 00:11:04 [ View Past Journals ] [ View as Blog ] |
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